


Rookie Maneuvers (We’re Only Human)

by liquidlaughing



Series: Rookie Maneuvers [1]
Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidlaughing/pseuds/liquidlaughing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Andy's pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rookie Maneuvers (We’re Only Human)

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm legalliquid on livejournal)  
> Thanks so much to in48frames for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are my fault.

It isn't easy to inch slowly away from Sam's solid warmth and emerge from beneath cozy blankets and soft sheets, to turn and watch his still-sleeping form, snoring slightly, his arms stretching toward the spot now turning cold from her absence. It's even worse later, when he startles awake, all wide-eyes and disheveled hair, because her equilibrium's all messed up from nausea and she reaches the door faster than anticipated, the resulting thump abnormally loud in the dark room.

"Sorry," Andy says in a low tone, even though whispering is unnecessary now that Sam's getting out of bed and moving towards her. "I didn't want to wake you."

"I kinda like it," replies Sam easily, stopping about a foot away from her, arms crossed. She's pretty sure he's lying but can't prove it. Not that she's comparing Sam to any of her previous boyfriends (except she totally is), but seriously, no sane person voluntarily gets up hours early to see someone off for work _every day_. Luke hadn't done it, he valued his sleep - and before the whole Jo thing, she'd almost married him.

Sam must see the skepticism on her face because he steps closer, arms outstretched and face intent, but she wards him off. "Saa-am, we can't," she whines. "You know I've got to get to 15 by 6:30 if I want any coffee before parade."

"I can make you coffee," Sam cajoles, and at first Andy's tempted by the sex his grin is so blatantly suggesting. But she's suddenly taken back to that morning in the undercover apartment: not so long ago for all that she and Sam don't ever discuss it, where an ill-timed quickie had almost cost Sam his life. Her resolve strengthens.

"I have to go." Short and to the point, an obvious lie but not without some wistfulness. Sam doesn't argue, but Andy wonders what response he's biting back. He's been censoring himself more and more, ever since they decided to try dating like regular people.

She tells herself that she is too busy to have _that_ conversation, exactly what she's been telling herself for weeks. Too busy sleeping, too busy enjoying sex, too busy working; all excuses, but Andy still can't bring herself to chip the thin veneer of happily-ever-after created during twenty-two blissful days cocooned together in Sam's apartment.

Leaning up, she kisses Sam lightly on the lips - just a peck, because Andy knows that if she tastes his morning breath right now, her already queasy stomach is seriously going to revolt - before walking down the hall.

Sam follows her as far as the front door, shivering slightly because in direct contrast to Andy's coat and scarf, he's only wearing sweats. "See ya later, McNally," he says, smiling lopsidedly as she walks out into the cold Toronto air.  She gives him one last look, then turns and walks to her car, thinking, not for the first time, _I can't mess this up._

***

Frank’s already pacing at the front of the room when Andy sneaks into parade, late and still faintly nauseous. She sits on one of the tables in the back, boots dangling over the edge like she's a two-year-old in a highchair, and looks around at the sparse morning shift. The yearly flu is really taking its toll, and officers across multiple divisions have been either calling out sick or crawling into work, feverish and half-high on nasal decongestants. It's a miracle that Toronto's criminal contingent hasn't seen fit to stage an uprising.

Despite sensing that today is not going to be one of her most intense shifts, Andy gamely tries to focus on the briefing. Frank's waving his arms around to demonstrate... something - maybe whatever new stupid thing this year's rookies have done - but he still takes a second to look right at her. They lock eyes and she shifts her gaze to the back of Gail's head, jiggling her leg restlessly until his focus shifts.

“Nice of you to join us, McNally,” comments Frank mildly, and a few of the other officers smirk and stifle good-natured laughs. It’s possible that being late to parade is turning into a pattern, if four times in three weeks can really be considered a pattern, which it _so_ can’t.

Out of the corner of her eye, Andy sees Dov actually laugh out loud, before Chris elbows him in the stomach to shut him up. Rolling her eyes - _clearly_ some _people had time to grab coffee_ \- she tries to tune back in to Frank’s briefing. And fails pretty much right away. Casting her gaze aimlessly toward the front, she tries to look contemplative instead of still half-asleep. Thoughts pool at the back of her mind, but she can't push any one idea to the forefront.

Her stomach's still turning flips after vomiting in an empty parking lot on her way to work, which is what made her late, and it’s messing with her concentration. Maybe she’s caught the flu. She's been pulling enough overtime shifts in the past three weeks for her immune system to be hanging out around her ankles. What else would make her lose her breakfast (and lunch, and occasionally dinner) on a semi-regular basis, always stealthily, because if Frank finds out, she's going to be manning a desk in an office full of cranky sick people.

She’s still lost in her thoughts when the meeting ends. Traci has to nudge her before Andy notices that people are clearing out of the meeting, intent on grabbing one last cup of coffee before the day's work gets going. So it’s no surprise when Andy’s the last one out of the room, despite sitting closest to the door, and Frank catches her attention on her way down the hall. Which she had been trying to avoid, but it's not like she doesn't deserve an admonishment for being late.

“You’ve been off suspension for weeks now, McNally, and being late isn't like you. What's up?” He watches her closely; face impassive except for the faint downward turn of his brows. He probably suspects that something personal is going on, but Andy doesn’t really know what’s happening either, so he probably can't read anything into her expression.

“Sorry sir,” she replies automatically, words beginning to spill out of her mouth faster than she can think about them. “It's just that my furnace broke and--” When he interrupts, she's glad, because how had she been planning on finishing that sentence? _My furnace broke so I slept at Sam's place, and it's a longer drive?_ Because that's both irrelevant and not exactly something to tell one's boss.

“Save it,” he says, already moving past her. “Stop being late to parade or I’ll have to bench you. I know how much you love desk duty.” He grins in amusement and turns the corner towards his office.

Suitably chastised, Andy walks in the direction of the police cruisers on autopilot. She’s riding with Traci today; the lull in criminal activity is pleasant, if strange, and so it's a simple patrol day. No longer a rookie, Andy knows better than to tempt fate and say that it’s going to be an easy day. Because that will jinx the whole division into running a sting operation or something, and she’s really just in the mood for a nice, boring shift, where she can both hang out with Traci under the guise of work, and figure out what the niggling sensation in the back of her mind wants her to remember.

***

“Are you wearing perfume?” is the first question Andy asks when Traci opens the driver’s side door of their cruiser and a wave of floral wafts in after her.  Traci looks both confused and surprised, disoriented by the strange question.

“Yes?” she answers slowly. “Why?”

“It’s just kinda strong,” Andy manages, breathing through her mouth to try and stave off her sudden burst of nausea. “Can we drive with the windows down for a while?”

Traci looks suspicious for a minute, no doubt thinking Andy is going crazy, but agrees.

"I have a migraine or something," Andy lies (badly), mumbling as she rolls her window down and feels the icy breeze rush past her face. Except now she _does_ have a headache to go along with her queasy stomach and she hopes that isn't foreshadowing the rest of their patrol.

Andy doesn't blame Traci for her suspicion; it's freezing outside, still the middle of winter, and the first day in weeks that hasn't threatened to snow. She can't figure out why Traci's usually light and airy perfume is suddenly too intense. But facts are facts, and the fact is, riding around nauseous in an old patrol car with iffy breaks and faulty suspension will only end in disaster. A vomit-all-over-the-front-seat, takes-a-week-to-air-out, everyone-knows-what-you-did-and-slips-you-the-decaf-coffee kind of tragedy. And anyway, she kind of thinks that Chris and Dov deserve to handle today's catastrophe as punishment for being the only two people who looked fully awake at parade.

The heavens must hear Andy, and a few hours pass uneventfully as Traci cruises slowly through their assigned patrol radius, talking Andy’s ear off about Leo and Jerry and the new custody agreement with her ex. Andy feels briefly jealous that Traci's life seems to be headed in the direction of happily-ever-after, but she shuts it down. Traci deserves to be happy, even if Andy’s own fairytale ending seems to have hit a bottleneck.

Sure, she and Sam are trying out  'normal,' but Andy doesn't really know what that means, except for takeout dinners whenever their schedules line up, awesomely sweaty sex, and apparently, the underlying stress that she'll wake up and everything will have been just a dream. Sometimes she thinks it's all too good to be true. She never had that problem with Luke.

Frank has Sam and her, well, not separated officially, but Andy’s been working alternating morning and afternoon shifts and Sam has been working the whatever-shift-Andy-isn’t-around-for rotation. Frank doesn’t have a leg to stand on regarding fraternization, because 1.) just about everyone at 15 Division has slept with/dated/married a coworker, and 2.) the rumors regarding his baby-daddy situation with Noelle started flying long before Andy had even returned from suspension.

However, Andy admits that the whole sneaking in to see Sam during an undercover operation idea was risky and stupid and now, six weeks after that gut-wrenching night at the warehouse, she's just glad that Frank seems content to keep all further punishment unwritten.

Andy’s jolted out of her thoughts by a crackle on the radio from dispatch. There's a possible robbery in progress; a home alarm was set off and three incorrect codes have been used in the past five minutes. Andy informs dispatch that she and Traci are en route to the scene, and then sits back abruptly when Traci floors it.

Traci is audibly disappointed and Andy is secretly relieved when the suspected burglar turns out to be a rather pregnant housewife sitting on her porch in dismay. The front door’s ajar and the screeching beep of the home alarm finally shuts off as they roll up the driveway, a relief after hearing the noise from a block away.

“I’m so sorry,” wails the pregnant woman, face red from either exertion or embarrassment as Traci and Andy slowly approach. Traci continues inside the house to secure it and Andy stops in front of the woman, motioning for her to continue speaking. “And your name is...?” she asks patiently.

“Maria Everett.” Maria pushes her blonde bangs away from her forehead in a show of frustration. “I was running some errands and when I got home, I just couldn’t remember my passcode. I never thought that pregnancy brain would be so frustrating, you know?”

Andy nods in sympathy even though she doesn’t actually understand at all, and tries to project calm towards Maria, who is clearly still shaken up.

“It’s all right, Ms. Everett,” she says comfortingly. “We just need to go inside and have my partner take your statement. Shouldn’t be more than a minute.”

“Besides,” she lies through her teeth, following the other woman into the apartment, “I was just thinking that I needed a little excitement today.”

***

It’s not until they’re back in the patrol car, windows rolled down even though Andy’s nausea is mostly gone now, that Traci comments idly. “Huh, pregnancy brain, haven’t really thought about that in years.”

“That's a real thing?" She doesn't usually question Traci about motherhood or pregnancy. It's not really a sore point between them, the fact that Andy's mom gave up on motherhood and Traci is obviously an awesome mother, because that would be stupid and petty, but it would also be lying to say that seeing Traci with her son doesn't make Andy long for some maternal comfort.

Traci jumps at the chance to talk about her son again. “Oh yeah, when I was pregnant with Leo, I couldn’t keep track of my thoughts for the life of me. Drove me and everyone around me crazy. And I didn't even realize that I was pregnant for _weeks_ , so it must have started really early.”

At the next red light, she stops and looks at Andy jokingly. “Why so curious? You and Swarek thinking about making any baby McSwareks anytime soon?” Traci grins. "15 does seem to be experiencing some baby fever right about now."

“No,” bursts out Andy defensively. “Just, no. I mean, first, I’m probably not even cut out to be a mom, seriously, but also, this me and Sam thing is...” She trails off and slumps down in her seat, gazing out the passenger window moodily. It's early afternoon, and the sidewalks are filled with busy mothers and fathers using their lunch breaks to pick up young children from daycare.

Traci stays silent and waits for her to continue, which would be nice if this were a topic that Andy actually wanted to discuss, but it isn’t. And she knows that Traci will just wait her out, a normally awesome characteristic in her friend that suddenly becomes incredibly annoying.

“It’s like-- just, I don’t think we talk enough," Andy rushes, words blending together in her frenzy to get everything out. “I mean, we have like, great sex, and we hang out all the time, and I spent most of the suspension at his place, but I’m maybe waiting for the other shoe to drop?” She sneaks a glance at Traci before continuing. _You wanted to know._

“Like maybe it’s too soon after the thing with Luke to be, I dunno, all ready to _commit_ commit to another guy? Because it seems too good to be true. And Sam keeps looking at me like he wants to say something, but he never says it. And Frank still has us working different shifts, so sometimes I don't see him for days... It's just really stressful,” she concludes, lamely.

Traci regards her calmly and responds, “Look, Andy, I think this is a go-with-your-gut kind of situation, but if you want my opinion, Swarek has been crazy about you for years. Talk to him. He’s all in.”

Andy relaxes a little in her seat. Just like always, it’s soothing when Traci becomes Andy’s badly needed voice of reason. It’s times like these that Traci seems like an older, more worldly sister, despite being a few months shy of Andy’s own 27 years.

“I’m just frustrated,” she grumbles. Who knew that a real, grown-up relationship would require so much effort? She realizes that despite Luke's boyish charm and easy-going demeanor, they wouldn't have lasted, even if they had made it down the aisle. Andy had tried too hard to believe Luke was her best chance at a perfect life, and he had used her as a placeholder for Jo.

 Andy doesn't want Sam to feel like he has to censor himself and sacrifice himself for her fantasy, and for all that they spend every free moment together, she hasn't been able to get a read on any of his deeper feelings.

Andy watches outside the window as a heavily pregnant woman pushes a double stroller down the street, children buckled in and fast asleep. What is _with_ all the pregnant people today?

Following her gaze, Traci says flippantly, “And if you do ever want to make a mini-McNally, I’m all for it. I’ve always wanted to be an aunt.”

“Ha ha,” Andy says sarcastically. But suddenly it's like everything clicks into place and all of her background thoughts slide into clear focus. And she's adding up two plus two and getting five because her brain refuses to compute the possibility that-- that... _no way_.

She already knew that she'd missed her period this month, but it’s honestly not the first time. She’s a wiry athletic type, has been all her life, and a stress-induced late period is nothing to be concerned about. But, Andy realizes slowly, fingers hurting from squeezing the door handle too tightly, this is the first time that she’s missed her period while having regular sex. Which means her nausea might be a symptom of something much bigger than the flu. She hadn't put the pieces together earlier, but today's onslaught of women and children, coupled with Traci's innocent 'McSwarek' comments, connect the dots.

The drive back to 15 is quiet.

***

Andy spends the remaining thirty minutes of her shift feigning illness so no one comes too close or asks her to pick up an extra shift tomorrow. Besides, her friends are usually pretty good at noticing when something's wrong. She just wants to be left alone with her thoughts, and with the way she’s feeling, it's not even really a lie. If an EMT were to take her blood pressure, she's sure it would be skyrocket-high.

Andy won’t see Sam tonight, and she’s guiltily grateful. He’s being loaned out to 18 because one of his old undercover aliases is connected to a case they’re working, and she still feels weird sleeping in his apartment when he won’t be there. At 3pm exactly, she screeches out of the parking lot, headed for the drugstore on the furthest edge of town.

***

 

Paying for four boxes of home pregnancy tests and a two liter bottle of water is horrible. She feels like a teenager again, uncomfortable in her own skin, but somehow the feeling is magnified ten-fold. Which is weird, because while she's never bought a pregnancy test before, it's totally normal for a woman her age to need one.

Andy doesn’t even want to read the package labels too closely; she wants to pretend that she’s buying toothpaste or tampons or even condoms. Especially condoms because then maybe she wouldn’t be in such a state of panic now. The cashier at the register gives her a smirk, like ‘how pregnant _are_ you,’ until Andy glares him into submission. Seriously, she's an adult. But there is no way that she's going back out to buy more pregnancy tests, ever.

Once home, she heads straight for the bathroom so she won’t lose her resolve. Waiting the required two minutes for results is nerve-wracking, and Andy paces up and down the hallway for warmth, bare toes sinking into the cold carpeting. Finally, she can’t wait any more and rushes back to where she’s laid each of her three tests face-up on the side of the bathtub.

Positive, Plus sign, _oh wait only one pink line!_ She shakes the last test again for confirmation, and as if by reverse etch-a-sketch magic, the second pink line slowly appears. "Holy Crap," mutters Andy numbly. "What is in the coffee over at 15?”

***

As soon as Andy actually manages to process what she’s looking at, she flips out. She cries, big messy tears that leave watermarks down her cheeks, body shaking apart right there on the bathroom floor. She’s never really been the type to mess up, past six months notwithstanding, and the truth of the situation hits her hard. She can’t even _picture_ herself with a kid.

Sure, Andy knows other people who want children; Noelle’s finally having a baby after years of waiting, and Traci's son has become the nephew she never knew she wanted. But Andy’s always seen herself in the aunt role. The type to hang out with a kid for a few hours  watching movies or playing basketball, and then return him to the responsible people who have to raise him.

 _Is it really so bad to not want a baby?_ It makes Andy feel kinda selfish, but she can’t hide feelings from herself, so. She can’t be a mother. What if she like, ruins the kid or something? _What about her career?_ Few things on the planet mean as much to Andy as her life as a cop. It's the hardest, best thing she's ever done, and it's where she met Sam.

And Sam, how will Sam take the news? Being best friends with Oliver Shaw, family man and all-around good guy, would surely make any fellow family man long for his own happily-ever-after. It's not like Sam was waiting around for Andy his whole life, so he must have loved the undercover assignments too much to settle down. And a girlfriend is really different from a wife and kids, she realizes, ignoring the part of her brain that's replaying Traci's words on repeat. _Talk to him. He’s all in._ Andy won’t, _can't_ leave Sam, but she isn't going to be the one to saddle him with a family. Wanting her does not mean wanting anything else. She has moved too fast before and gotten burned for her troubles.  Besides, getting pregnant a few weeks into dating is totally not ‘normal.'

So. She’s decided, then. She picks up the phone to make two separate appointments, and if her voice wavers slightly when she makes the second call, it’s only because she has been too sick to eat all day.

***

The next day is clear and bright, a direct contrast to Andy's dark mood. The women's clinic is bustling with activity; pregnant women sit in clusters around the waiting room next to beaming spouses.  Andy is envious of their apparent joy even as she leaves the sitting area to wait in an exam room. Andy has been trying to find excuses for her ‘false positive’ pregnancy tests all morning. _Wasn’t there an episode of 30 Rock like this?_ She knows that she’s grasping at straws now, but if she’s honest with herself, creating conspiracy theories is the only way to make sure that she doesn’t make a run for it before the OB even walks in.

If she really _is_ pregnant, Andy knows what she has to do. It’s just that she didn’t expect to ever find herself in this predicament in the first place. Recently, she's been preoccupied with the rookie cop thing, and then the whole getting-married-whoops-just-kidding mess, not to be outdone by the sexing-up-Sam-during-a-UC disaster. And maybe it’s a little (okay, a lot) naive, but she also kinda figured that the universe knew she wasn’t mother material, what with the fledgling ability to act like a responsible adult when she's off duty, and the being frequently shot at when she's at work.

The doctor walks in, a short Asian woman with pinned up grey hair, and introduces herself as Dr. Chen before getting down to business. Even now, Andy feels like maybe, just maybe, it’s all been one big misunderstanding. Wacky hormones, or faulty pregnancy test kits, or--

“Congratulations, Ms. McNally, you do appear to be pregnant,” Dr. Chen’s voice breaks in over Andy’s internal monologue, tearing down her tightly woven shield of denial. “I’d say six weeks along, give or take,” the doctor continues, seemingly oblivious to Andy’s quickening heartbeat and sweaty palms.

“I usually have my early pregnancy patients come back in at week eight, but you’re far enough along that I can have you back here for a week ten checkup instead.”

Andy doesn’t say anything and feels frozen to the exam table. Her left thumb starts twitching and she gazes at the blue ceiling of the exam room emotionlessly. The words _pregnant_ , and _six weeks_ , and _congratulations,_ cycle through her brain on repeat. The act of peeing on sticks doesn’t seem to have the same effect as someone else telling her the words. She is right back where she started, caught between shock and awe and numbness.

“Or,” Dr. Chen says slowly, finally looking up from the machine to see Andy’s panic-stricken face. “If this isn’t something you want right now, there are other options. Emergency contraceptives are obviously out, but I can give you some reading material and--”

“No,” exclaims Andy, speaking even before she realizes it, completely disregarding the fact that she has an appointment at Planned Parenthood in just over an hour. Ignoring that Sam probably doesn't even _want_ a kid, and her life will be forever changed. More softly, she repeats, “No, I uh, I’m keeping the baby,” and the doctor nods, smiling for the first time since she'd walked into the room.

***

Andy’s back at home, wrapped up in blankets on her couch and browsing the internet for extra pregnancy information. The doctor gave her a lot to think about and she wants to know as much as possible, because if she's keeping the kid, she's not going to screw up before the baby's even born.

Sam calls when his shift ends, all, “Hey McNally, wanna come over? I’ll make your favorite,” laughter obvious in his voice, the way that he has just about every day for the past few weeks, and she can just picture him, long legs leaning against his truck, calling before he even leaves the parking lot so they’ll get to his place within minutes of each other.

It’s the first time she begs off, mumbling something about a stomachache and alone-time, which is partially true, but she hears his tone change, and she knows that he picked up on the fact that she’s mostly lying. She feels so guilty, but Andy knows that she’s got no poker face outside of an actual poker game; there’s no way she can go over to his apartment right now and look at his furrowed brow, his intense face of concern, and then watch the corner of his mouth turn down as she lies to his face.

So, even though she knows this is the last time their schedules will line up for _weeks_ , she says no and stays inside her cold apartment with the still-broken furnace. An apartment that seems to grow even colder because she could be in Sam’s warm apartment instead.

***

Three weeks pass, and Andy runs into Noelle as she’s picking up prenatal vitamins. Or, in actuality, Noelle sees Andy picking up her vitamins and prescription for nausea, and questions Andy when she tries to leave. At first, Andy wants to pretend that the vitamins are for a sick friend, but it literally takes about 30 seconds for her to give in and let out the whole story right there in the store, when faced with Noelle’s raised brow, arms crossed tightly over her growing baby bump. She'd blame it on being extra hormonal, but deep down she knows that she'd never make it through a criminal interrogation as an actual felon.

It’s not even like they’re especially close. Noelle's a coworker, a member of 15, which makes her a part of Andy’s found-family, sure, but not exactly a close confidant. Andy saves her secrets for Traci, for Gail and Dov and Chris; her best friends, her brothers and sisters. But in this situation, she can't confide in them. Not because she can't trust them, but because sharing the secret will make everything seem so much more _real_.

But she’s been bursting at the seams to tell someone, and right now, Noelle, honorary older cousin, is as good a person as any other.

"And so that's why I've been avoiding Sam," Andy says, concluding her (actually, not very long) story. Andy's gaze keeps dropping to Noelle's baby bump and she knows her secret will be out soon enough, with or without her permission.

Now that it's all out in the open, she's almost embarrassed to have spilled so many personal details in the drugstore, but a quick glance around shows that the only person paying any attention is an elderly lady a few feet away, glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she reads Andy's lips.

"Look," Noelle starts. She sighs and continues. "Andy, I've know Sam for years. We were rookie cops together, and I've never known him to be anything other than a good man. He worships the air you _breathe,_ McNally, anyone can see it."

"That's about what Traci said," Andy mutters, and Noelle snorts inelegantly.

"That's because it's true."

"Okay, but I don't even know if he likes kids," says Andy, getting to the heart of the matter. "Because how can we be together if he doesn't ever want any?"

"Have you ever asked him?" Noelle questions knowingly. "Look, McNally, off the record, I wasn't sure that Frank wanted a family or to be married to his job either. But we discussed it like grownups and now everything's working out."

Andy sighs. It can't possibly be so simple. Past experience says her life just doesn't work that way.

"You're standing in the way of your own happiness, Rookie." Noelle states it firmly, no room for interpretation.

"I'm not a rookie anymore." Andy's offended. She's worked really hard to earn her stripes with 15.

 Noelle's last advice is simple. "Then quit acting like one."

***

It's two days later, and Andy’s counting down the minutes to the end of her shift, Noelle's words still ringing in her head. _You're standing in the way of your own happiness, Rookie._ She’s been at a desk for hours, no doubt a result of Noelle and Frank’s after-dark, off-the-record conversations, but she’s been feeling exhausted all day and can't really complain. Her pregnancy books say that being tired is normal, but she's definitely overestimated how long she can keep her own secret. All she wants to do is curl up in front of her TV with a heating blanket, some apple cider, and preferably Sam. Not that she's seen Sam in over three weeks. They've talked on the phone, but their schedules just haven't lined up and Andy's too tired after work to make the extra effort now.

Since luck hasn’t been on her side for almost ten weeks now, she’s not surprised when one of the new rookies brings a suspect into holding who, minutes before Andy is scheduled to leave, is discovered to have recently been in Argentina, home of the newest viral pandemic. By the time confusion surrounding the suspect settles, Frank orders everyone already inside the building to stay put until further notice. Andy figures it’s going to be another one of those pizza-and-poker events - quarantines no longer worry her - and she goes to see which of her friends are stuck on the inside for the duration.

Frank catches her on the way to the locker rooms. “Not you, McNally,” he says seriously. “You need to stay in my office until we know exactly what we’re up against here.”

“But sir,” Andy pleads as they walk up the stairs to his office. This quarantine is already shaping up to be much less entertaining than the previous one.

“Normally, I keep work-related conversations between me and Noelle off-the-record, but I really can't overlook your pregnancy right now, McNally. This is the best possible plan, given the circumstances. I just got off the phone with the CDC.” He looks both apologetic and stubborn, so Andy doesn't bother trying to argue with him.

She tries to read Frank’s face for any sign of true distress, but he looks the same as he did all those months ago, when Andy and Sam solved the case of the married bank robbers. _Blue Guy_.

“What will you tell everyone?”

“That you’re worried about being infected, that the suspect coughed on you on her way to holding.”

Andy isn’t really pleased that the rest of 15 is going to think she's like, patient zero or something, but the only other option is to announce that she’s pregnant, and just, no.

“I'll be back later with some news," says Frank before he walks back out of his office and down the stairs.

Frank's left her a bottle of water for the moment, pizza will probably arrive soon, but she doesn't drink anything yet. Nothing will spill her secret faster than walking up and down the stairs to the washrooms every ten minutes. Or everyone will probably think she has a UTI.

Andy doesn't know how long Frank will be gone; no news is probably good news though, so she settles in for the long haul with her phone. If her battery dies, she can always sleep.

***

She ends up drowsing in the corner, feet pushed out in front of her, head against the wall, but she’s startled awake by indistinct yelling coming from right outside the door. She looks up to see Sam, dressed in his uniform and gesturing wildly, mouth moving a mile a minute as he peers around Frank's crossed arms to look at Andy. He smiles in relief when she locks eyes with him, hands coming down to rest by his sides as he exhales, and she realizes that to a unaware observer, her sprawled out limbs could look like a someone who's collapsed from illness. Frank’s shaking his head, but his shoulders slump like he already knows Sam isn’t going to listen to a word he says. Sure enough, Sam pushes the office door open and all but runs to Andy’s side.

And even though Sam's already been told that Andy is sick and probably contagious, he hugs her tightly, half crouched over her, warm hand on the back of her neck.

“Jesus, Andy, you've got to stop scaring me like that, please,” he says brokenly, and Andy realizes suddenly that on that day nine weeks ago when she thought she’d lost Sam, that they'd been too late for a rescue, he’d spent hours wondering if he’d lost her too. If she’d been killed while he was being held hostage by Jamie Brennan. He breaks the hug but stays close, and she revels in his nearness after three weeks without touching him.

“Are you sick?” he asks gently, and she can’t lie to him, doesn’t even want to. She looks up at him, sees his concerned face, notices his barely perceptible shaking. _He's all in._

It’s now or never, a go-with-your-gut moment. “No, I’m not sick, Sam. It's just a precaution because... because I’m pregnant.” She tenses slightly and watches his face.  _No turning back now._

Sam’s face cycles quickly through emotions and Andy can only recognize a few of them, relief, shock, concern, anger, and finally sadness. He’s quiet for a long time, and Andy nervously twitches her leg back and forth. He leans away from her, but only so he can sit down heavily on the floor. He places a hand on her knee and her twitching stops abruptly.

When he finally starts speaking, his voice is quiet. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me you were pregnant?"

Andy feels a little defensive. It's not like they had talked about this eventuality while at the UC apartment or anything. "I've only known for three weeks, Sam. And at first, I wasn't even going to go through with it."

Sam looks shell-shocked. “You weren't going to tell me? Jesus, what kind of person do you think I _am_? _"_ He sounds so sad and bewildered, the relief from earlier completely wiped from his face. And she's been trying _so_ hard to not mess anything up.

She's feeling guilty again. This is why she shouldn't compare boyfriends. Sam's getting the wrong idea completely and she hastens to explain. "I was going to tell you either way, I promise. I just didn't want any baby-talk to get in the way of, you know, being _normal_."

From the looks of things, Sam's cursing himself for ever bringing that word up. "Fuck normal, okay. I just said that because I was worried you would give up on me, Andy. It's kinda been rough going lately."

Andy nods and understands what Sam isn’t saying. Admittedly, where Sam’s concerned, she has been a little fickle. _Too scared to fully commit._ How could he have known that she’s ready for forever?

He looks at her imploringly. "I should have said this from the start, but I didn't know if you were ready to hear it. I _love_ you, Andy McNally.”

Andy's surprised to hear him say the words, and she sort of crumples in on herself. _Oh_.

“I must be doing something wrong if you didn't know that I love you by _now_ , McNally,” he says, only half joking.

And maybe she has known, deep down. But only in that way that’s full of hope, too fragile to speak aloud.

“I just didn't want to mess this up and I didn't know if you wanted kids and, and--” She's crying now, tears of frustration and relief. Can it really be this simple?

Sam wipes a few tears off of her cheeks with his thumb before speaking again. “Listen to me. Andy, sweetheart, I’m _in love_ with you and I’m not going anywhere unless you make me. Kids or not.”

And maybe it _is_ this simple to find her happily-ever-after. Or maybe she’s just actively working towards it now; instead of hoping that it lands, perfectly packaged, into her lap.

Besides, a fairytale ending is really just the conclusion of their first chapter together. And if she and Sam are filling in the rest of the pages, why can’t they figure their own definition of normal?

Andy reaches for him, not kissing because they _are_ still in Frank’s office.  As they hug again, she mumbles "I love you too," into Sam's warm shoulder. She's probably getting tears and snot all over his uniform, but from his quick intake of breath at her words, she doesn't really think he cares.

***

The quarantine turns out to be a false alarm, like every other quarantine in the history of 15. Replacements had already shown up for the night shift, so Frank lets everyone in the building leave. It's out of character for him to not sort through who was late to leave or early to arrive at the time of the lockdown, but Andy figures that he wants to hurry home to Noelle. Something about even the threat of death makes people eager to see loved ones.

Traci winks at Andy from the parking lot as she and Sam walk toward his truck together, barely an inch of space between them. They’ll all be back bright and early tomorrow, standard post-quarantine procedure, and Andy already knows that Traci is going to have lots of knowing looks in store for her.

Andy can’t _wait_ to see Traci’s shocked expression when she breaks her pregnancy news.

When they reach his truck, Sam backs her up against it, arms bracketing her head as he stares at her intently. Then he leans in, and Andy thinks it's finally for a kiss, but he stops an inch away from her face. She can feel his breath on her skin and she wonders why he won't just close the distance between them. Technically, they're not at work anymore, so...

Suddenly, Sam bursts out into a wide grin, dimples present and eyes crinkling happily. "Hey McNally," he says slowly. "What does a baby ear of corn call its daddy?"

Andy rolls her eyes, but she grins too. "Popcorn," finishes Sam without even waiting for her response.

She groans for effect - that wasn't his worst joke, she still remembers ' _hambulance_ , _'_ but it's pretty bad.  Sam's on a roll now, though. "What did the mama tomato say to the baby tomato?"

Laughing, she drags him down to meet her lips, effectively cutting off any further jokes.

***

They go home, hands tangled together over the armrest, only breaking apart briefly when Sam has to shift gears. He's already driving differently, slower, checking each intersection before he passes it, not speeding thorough yellow lights. She'd probably be incredulous, checking for a pod person, if she weren't so deliriously _happy_.

She spares a thought for Luke and hopes that he finds his own fairytale ending. They had never been more than good together, each using the other as substitutes for something missing. But he deserves to feel as happy and complete as her someday.

Noelle's words come back to her when Sam squeezes her hand softly.  _You're standing in the way of your own happiness_.

She squeezes his hand back. _Not anymore._

 

 


End file.
